The light of the new day was a soft, pale gray, filtering through the frost-dusted windows of the cabin. The fire had long since burned out, but the room was far from cold.
Sebastian woke first. For a long time, he simply lay still, watching the steady rise and fall of Jacob's chest. The morning clarity brought no regret, only a profound, staggering sense of awe. He shifted slowly, beginning a quiet, slow-burning pilgrimage across Jacob's skin. He pressed reverent, lingering kisses to the slope of Jacob's shoulder, the curve of his ribs, and the soft skin of his inner arm, avoiding the bandaged wrists with a tender, protective care.
He was worshiping him—not as a tycoon buys a treasure, but as a man who has finally found his North Star.
